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Updated: May 14, 2025
As it was well, as it was there used to be a belief in the Middle Ages that the Evil One's favorite nook lay amid the deepest shadow of a cathedral, and modern fact is ofttimes curiously akin to medieval romance. When he came to think of it, Medenham decided to return at once to Symon's Yat.
From Symon's Yat to Hereford is about fifteen miles, and Medenham drew out of the narrow lane leading from the river to Whitchurch about a quarter-past nine. Thenceforth a straight and good road lay clear before him, and he meant to break the law as to speed limit by traveling at the fastest rate compatible with his own safety and that of other road-users.
Indeed, her wits were trying to solve a minor puzzle. Her woman's eye had seen and her quick brain was marveling at certain details in Medenham's costume. There are conditions, even in England, in which a flannel suit is hard to obtain, and the manner of their coming to Symon's Yat seemed to preclude the buying of ready-made garments, a solution which would occur to an American instantly.
Hence, his appearance at the Symon's Yat Hotel seemed to have no more serious import than a father's wish to delight his daughter by an unexpected participation in her holiday. No secret had been made as to the Mercury's halting-place that day. Cynthia herself had written the address in the hotel register, adding a request that letters, if any, were to be forwarded to Windermere.
There was slight excuse for arm-holding now, but Cynthia seemed to think that her frills still needed safeguarding, so he did not withdraw the hand which clung to her elbow. A light in a laborer's cottage promised information; he knocked at the door, which was not opened, but a voice cried: "Who is it? What do you want?" "Tell me the nearest way to the Symon's Yat Hotel, please," said Medenham.
Devar grimly; nevertheless, she felt weak and sick, and in her anxiety to rush out into the fresh air she did forget to hang up the receivers, and the Symon's Yat Hotel was cut off from the world of telephones until someone entered the box early next morning.
He could not guess that Cynthia would have mentioned the fact had she spoken to him, but in the flurry and surprise of hearing that he was not in the hotel she forgot to tell the attendant who took her message that she was at Symon's Yat and not at Hereford. "Are you sure about the car?" he said, rendered somewhat skeptical by the boy's overfullness of knowledge. "Yes, sir.
Yet, so strangely constituted is human nature of the Devar variety, she would have given half the money she possessed if she could have recalled that letter an hour later. But His Majesty's mails are inexorable as fate. A twopence-ha'penny stamp had linked Symon's Yat and Paris, and not all Mrs. Devar's world-worn ingenuity could sunder that link. For this is what happened. To Mrs.
"And how far is the Symon's Yat Hotel, measured by that rule?" "Half a mile, sir, down that there lane." While traveling slowly in the narrow way, Simmonds turned his head. "It doesn't follow that because the boy saw Viscount Medenham yesterday his lordship is here now, sir," he said. "You just do as you are told and pass no remarks," snapped Vanrenen.
The clouds did not lift until Cynthia was standing in front of that remarkable Map of the World which reposes behind oaken doors in the south aisle of Hereford Cathedral. During the run from Symon's Yat, not even a glorious sun could dispel the vapors of that unfortunate Sunday.
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